Sisters of Sorrow

by Axel Blackwell

  Bodies, and parts of bodies, littered the cistern’s floor – seals, deer, most of a shark, an octopus, the hind legs of a bear.

  And people.

  The boy Anna had seen beaten to death on the beach lay beside several dead nuns. One of these was Sister Evangeline, the Woodpecker, her frizzy red hair and sharp nose were unmistakable. Anna didn’t recognize the other sisters. Most, like the seal, were partially dismembered, their features obscured.

  “Donny,” Anna whispered, “Donny!”

  The boy stared into the pit, not acknowledging her.

  “Donny, look at me!” She reached across and shoved his shoulder.

  He raised his head, eyes huge, “Anna…”

  “Shh!” She whispered. It felt like the sardines were swimming through the strawberry jam in her gut, trying to find their way back up her throat. Donny looked as if he felt the same.

  “What…” Donny started.

  A sound below them cut him off, a familiar gurgling voice. “No need to whisper, I know you are there. Know where you are.”

  The Joseph-thing pulled itself into view. “We all know just where you are.”

  It was even more horrible now, with the light revealing exactly what it was. Human arms attached to a deer’s torso. Tentacles dangled from below each arm. It had human legs, apparently from the nuns, that sprouted out of its back and faced the wrong direction. A porpoise tail was sewn to the thing’s hips, where its legs should have gone. Several seams were stitched closed with leather shoelaces from the factory. At other places, gobs of glistening kelp held the unnatural connections together.

  “And we will keep you, me and my island, me and my dogs, just like I promised, and Abbess McCain will never find you.” It turned its face up toward Anna and Donny. The eyes were gone, only burned black sockets regarded them.

  Then it hobbled, on its backward feet, out of their view. “I have more eyes, more eyes. More eyes, little Anna, I have more eyes and hands and fingers and lots of fingers, lots of little parts. Lots of little…I’ll take your parts, too.”

  There was a meaty thump below, then a dragging sound.

  “I have to thank you for all these parts. Never had so many parts, good fresh parts. I can make lots of things. I made this one for you.” It reemerged into Anna’s field of view, now walking on all fours, using its tail as a fifth leg and dragging something with its tentacles. “I made this one for you, and you, so I can hold you both and swim you both.”

  Donny made a thin keening sound as the Joseph-thing dragged a new abomination into view. Its bottom half had been a harbor seal, once. This was sewn to a nun’s torso. The nun’s breasts had been replaced by a second set of arms. A third pair of arms protruded from her back. A coyote’s head lolled above this hexagon of arms.

  “I don’t need to swim here,” Joseph said, “but this one has eyes, nice yellow eyes. This one has good eyes so I can see, so I can see how to fix the eyes you burned. How did you burn my eyes? I don’t know. I think you had help…”

  The Joseph-thing dropped the horrible six-armed mermaid at his backward feet and stood erect. As he continued talking, he worked his finger into a hole in his own chest.

  Anna became aware of an uncomfortable pressure around her ribs, then realized that she and Donny had their arms around each other, nearly squeezing the life out of each other.

  Joseph worked his entire hand into the hole in his chest, then began pressing his other hand in as well. “You two wait right there while I change.” It gurgled something that must have been laughter. “While I change. I’ll only be a minute. Then I can fix my eyes. And when I have new eyes, I’ll come get you, and get you and put you back where you belong.”

  With his second hand now fully inside his chest cavity, the Joseph-thing squatted backward on his knees, and pulled outward on his ribs. He uttered a sobbing groan. His ribcage split along a seam in its breastbone and popped open like the jaws of a bear trap. Then, something fell out, something like a Thanksgiving turkey, if the turkey had been coated in black blood. After a second, Anna recognized it for what it was – the ribs, spine, and one upper arm bone of a small child. The rest of the Joseph thing, the backward-legged porpoise-tailed monstrosity, collapsed in a heap, lifeless.

  Anna whispered into Donny’s ear, “We have to go!”

  “I know,” he whispered back, squeezing her tighter.

  Below them, the remains of the child that had fallen out of the Joseph thing squirmed and dragged itself onto the body of the six-armed mermaid. At least it had stopped talking.

  “We have to go down…get past it…We have to get back to the…” Anna broke off. There was no way she could climb down into the cistern with that thing. “I’d rather be eaten by the wolves.”

  “Me, too,” Donny whispered. “Do you think maybe they are friendly wolves? Maybe your witch friend sent them?”

  “No.”

  “Me neither.”

  A horrible, wet slurping sound echoed out of the cistern. It reminded Anna of the time Lizzy had made an improvised straw from a piece of shoe leather and tried to suck porridge through it. At that memory, Anna giggled, on the verge of a laughing fit.

  “Don’t crack up on me now, Anna,” Donny took her hand, “I’ll get us out of here.” His attempt at bravery made him sound even more terrified. It helped Anna quell the giggles.

  She peered into the cistern again. Joseph’s mermaid lay on its back, alive now. A wide incision ran up the center of its sternum. Anna could see the tiny child’s ribs squirming inside the chest of the patchwork mermaid. The creature twitched and jerked in grotesque spasms. When these passed, it snatched up a length of leather shoelace and stitched closed the incision on its sternum.

  “It’s inside that thing,” Donny whispered. “If it gets us, it’s gonna make us into monsters, too.”

  “It won’t get us.” Anna tugged Donny away from the cistern toward the door. “We’re going to be eaten by wolves, remember.”

  “Right.” Donny said, seeming to relax.

  “Flip that cover off the lamp,” Anna said.

  She turned the handle and eased the door open. Donny shone the lamp into the basement. The wolf had not moved. It perched halfway down the crumbling foundation wall. When the light hit it, it growled and curled its upper lip, revealing fangs.

  “You can eat the jam. Before we get eaten. If you want,” Donny said. “Sorry I didn’t let you earlier.”

  “I’m not very hungry anymore,” Anna said. “Maybe we could throw it to the wolves? Distract them?”

  “I don’t think jam will distract them,” Donny said.

  Anna looked at her hand. She still held the glass jar she had snatched up earlier. Rotten goop sloshed within it. “What about rotten preserves? If they eat the rotten food and get sick, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

  “Maybe. Do you think the key might scare ‘em off?” Donny fished it out of his pocket. It didn’t glow. Not even kind of.

  “Well, you could try it.” Anna gave him a half-hearted grin.

  “It’s better than throwing rotten food at them,” Donny said but stuffed the key back into his pocket. When he pulled his hand out again, he held the waxed paper tube from the lantern case. He eyed it, speculatively, then a radiant smile beamed across his face.

  Chapter 24

  “Papa taught me this,” Donny said, bubbling. “Said he’d skin me alive if he ever caught me doin’ it.”

  Joseph’s voice drifted up from the cistern, muttering to himself. “…eyes, eyes, who has some pretty eyes for Joseph…” Other noises drifted up as well, the mermaid thing dragging itself around, parts being shuffled and tossed. “…fishy eyes, girly eyes…Irish eyes a’ smiling…too many spleens! Too many spleens!” A wet splatting noise. “…eye of deer, eye of dog, eye of…eye…of…Margaret!”

  “I promise not to tell your papa,” Anna said. “Whatever you’re doing, please hurry.”

  “Hold this,” he gave her the lamp. “Keep that light on the wo
lf, tell me if he moves. We’re going out there with him.”

  Anna went through the door first, out of the alcove and into the basement. Donny slid through after her and pushed the door closed. The wolf stepped further down the crumbling wall, almost to the floor. A second wolf worked its way down as well, snarling and yapping. The second was bigger than the first, at least twice as large as Anna herself.

  Donny fumbled around on the floor with a Mason jar and a splintered board. It looked like he was trying to build something.

  “Donny?”

  “Just hold ‘em back! Just for a minute!” He used a nail in the board to pop a hole through the lid of a jar. “You’re gonna love this!”

  “Hold them back with what?” she nearly shrieked at him. Anna wound up and flung the rotten preserves at the closest wolf. The jar struck the wolf’s shoulder with a hollow thump. The wolf yelped and stepped back as the preserves bounced off and shattered across the floor. The second wolf leapt over him, roaring, landing squarely on the floor less than ten feet from Anna.

  “Donny!”

  Something flashed beside her. “Look!” Donny said. He stood, holding two Mason jars, each with a two-inch flame jetting through holes in the lids.

  “We already have a lamp…” Anna said, groping for another weapon.

  Donny flung the first jar at the giant wolf’s feet. It exploded like a flashbulb, bright as lightning, with the crack of a rifle shot. Tiny bits of glass peppered Anna and skittered across the basement. The wolves howled, bolting topside. The big wolf turned tail so fast his back legs skidded out behind him as he scampered out of the basement.

  Beyond the alcove door, Joseph shrieked.

  Donny threw his second bomb at the big wolf’s hindquarters just as it cleared the foundation. Anna turned away, covering her face with her arm. The second report was not as loud, probably because most of the blast was above ground, and less glass hit her. But the wolf howled and yelped as it fled into the night.

  “Yeah!” Donny shouted, throwing his arms up in a V.

  “Ha, ha!” Anna cried. She hugged Donny without intending to do so, and he hugged her back. They danced in a circle for about a second. Then, they heard Joseph.

  Beyond the alcove door, Joseph bellowed in rage. He was coming for them. Whether he had replaced the eyes and returned to his other body or whether he still inhabited the six-armed mermaid, Anna didn’t know. And she didn’t want to find out. She crammed a broken piece of shelf under the alcove door like a doorstop.

  “Let’s go, Donny! Quick this time.”

  “Grab the lantern,” Donny said. He stuffed a jar into each of his two coat pockets. Then he leaped up and wrapped his fingers over the top of the tall oak hutch. He swung his legs out away from the cabinet.

  “What are you doing?” Anna yelled.

  “Just go, I’m right behind you!”

  Joseph slammed into the door from the cistern side. It opened about two inches before catching on Anna’s doorstop.

  Donny swung his feet away from the hutch. It rocked onto its front feet, balanced briefly, then slammed back into its upright position.

  “Hurry!” Anna yelled, “The wolves are coming back!”

  The smaller of the two wolves stood just outside the foundation, peering in at them. Anna hucked a jar at it. She missed by several feet, splattering the wall with rotten green beans, but the wolf bolted as soon as she began her throw.

  Joseph hit the door again with a sick meaty thud. It shuddered, sliding open another inch. One rusted screw popped out of the hinge and bounced away. A black tentacle slithered through the gap, groping around the opening.

  Anna leapt up beside Donny, latching onto the hutch’s top. “Together!”

  As soon as they started to swing out, the hutch’s right front leg snapped off. The heavy cabinet lurched forward and sideways at the same time. It began to topple, but instead of falling against the door, it crashed into one of the support posts, resting against it at an angle.

  Donny, surprised by the hutch’s diagonal motion, also slammed into the post. Anna missed it, backpedaled two steps, tripped over her feet, fell on her back, and rolled against the alcove door. The hutch had pinned the tail of Donny’s coat to the post. He dangled by it like a marionette.

  Anna staggered to her feet. Joseph’s tentacle lashed out at her, but missed. Some other appendage slammed into Joseph’s side of the door. Anna ran to Donny. The hutch’s corner had snagged the post, but only by a few inches. If she and Donny could dislodge it, they could still trap Joseph in the cistern.

  “Help me shove this!” she shouted.

  Donny stood, dazed but conscious, and tugged at his coat. It started to rip. “I’m hung up.”

  “Never mind that! Push!” Anna yelled.

  Joseph slammed into the door. Donny startled and snapped to. He and Anna slammed into the hutch. It refused to budge, was wedged in place. A hand shot through the alcove door, fingers searching the gap, trying to pry it open. Anna and Donny slammed the hutch again. This time, though the hutch didn’t move, the post did. It gave out a creek, like an old rocking chair, and began to crackle.

  Overhead, the ruined house groaned. The post tilted, slowly, like a falling tree. The crackling intensified as floor joists splintered, popping like pine knots in a bonfire. The other support post snapped in half.

  Donny slammed the cabinet again, determined to topple it. Anna hooked her arm around his midsection and hauled him toward the broken foundation wall. She screamed at him, but the roar of the collapsing structure was so loud neither of them heard what she said.

  Anna ripped him away as violently as her tired, battered body could. The back half of Donny’s coat, still snagged between the hutch and the post, finally ripped free. She half stumbled, half sprinted toward their escape.

  One breath later, Anna no longer needed to pull Donny. Both ran as if the devil was on their tail. They bounded up and over the rocks, into the moonlit forest. The dilapidated house collapsed in on its self, crashing into the basement. A plume of dust belched out of the pit, chasing them into the woods.

  Anna grabbed Donny’s hand and sprinted through the trees, not looking back. The lamp swung back and forth in her other hand, illuminating the next tree, the next blackberry patch, but nothing beyond. Branches thrashed their faces. Brambles tore at their ankles. Neither slowed them in the least.

  Anna ran until her lungs burned and her throat felt chafed. Donny began to feel like an anchor she was dragging through the woods. But still, she ran on.

  Donny’s legs eventually gave out. He fell while still trying to run, and Anna actually did drag him about four strides before she collapsed as well. Donny got up on hands and knees, wheezing, and pointed to a fallen tree. He and Anna crawled to it, resting their backs against its thick trunk. They sat for several minutes, panting, sucking in the night air.

  When he could talk, Donny said, “The wolves…”

  “I know,” Anna said.

  “They’re followin’…” He pulled a jar from the pocket of his shredded coat.

  “I know, Donny.” She laid her head back against the tree, looking up at the low-slung cedar branches.

  He nudged her leg with the jar. Black orbs bobbed in thick brown liquid. “Take this,” he wheezed, “In case… they come…”

  Anna laughed, coughed, and laughed again. She took Donny’s hand, instead of the jar, and squeezed it. “They won’t be coming close, Donny.” She laughed again. “I think those wolves will,” cough “…they’ll be telling their grand-babies about you, Donny.”

  He coughed a single laugh, then asked, “Joseph?”

  “I hope to heaven he’s…” wheeze “…squashed flat as a bug under that house.”

  “You sure he didn’t get out?”

  “I still can’t believe we got out,” she said. “Didn’t you see the whole thing was coming down on you?”

  “Yeah, I saw it.” He flapped his hand in an aw shucks gesture. “I seen worse.”

&n
bsp; Anna rolled her head to the side and looked at him, grinning. “In the mirror?”

  Confusion flitted across his face for the briefest moment, then he got it. He turned to her, trying hard to look angry but unable to hide his smile. “You oughta see yourself! I don’t know which you got more, mud or blood, but there ain’t a clean patch of skin on ya!”

  “Shh!” she giggled, and coughed.

  “Shh, yourself,” he said, grinning. “When you say your prayers tonight, thank the Good Lord you ain’t got a mirror!”

  If you mention my complexion one more time...Anna thought of Jane and sobered immediately. The weight of the night settled on her. She felt a chill and her skin prickled. They slumped together, shoulder to shoulder, head to head, backs to the fallen tree, looking up at the brightening sky.

  “You know I have a nick name, Donny?” she asked.

  Donny heard the change in her voice. The levity left him, “What is it?”

  “My friends call me Pinky.” She held up her three-fingered hand.

  “That’s awful,” Donny said.

  “I know.” She quickly looked away and swiped a tear. “I miss them.” Her voice cracked.

  Donny squeezed her hand, but said nothing.

  “We just whipped a wolf pack and a…” She looked back to Donny, questioning. “We whipped a wolf pack and a lunatic’s nightmare. You and me.” She laughed again. To her ears, it sounded a little bit sad and a little bit savage. “We are going to get my girls and your Maybelle. If Abbess McCain and her crazy nuns try to stop us…”

  “Lord have mercy on their souls?” Donny finished for her.

  “Lord have mercy on their souls,” Anna repeated. She let her eyelids droop until they closed.

  Overhead, night was the color of a purple bruise, except in the east, where a pink line cut the sea from the sky.

  Part Two

  Return from Darkness

  Chapter 1

  Anna slept until late morning, undisturbed. When she awoke, the sky hung low with soggy clouds. Forest birds twittered in the trees around her, but there was no rush of waves nor the squabble and chatter of ocean birds. Daylight felt funny on her eyes, almost hurt them. She was thankful for the cloud cover.